**Chapter 3**
So much for a new beginning in my hometown.
Just when I was ready to start over with a clean slate, I was abruptly dragged into the Imperial Palace. Now, here I was, standing before the real-life crown prince, trying to explain why I had written his fictional counterpart as bald.
“Well… it all started because of a certain reader who kept sending complaint letters to the newspaper every week. To put it bluntly,he was a nightmare- a total nuisance.”
“A nuisance?” the Crown Prince echoed, brow raised.
“Yes. He started sending these sky-blue envelopes about two years ago. Always nitpicking, demanding rewrites—telling me how I *should* be writing the story. He clearly didn’t know anything about the imperial family, yet he pretended to be some kind of expert and even pressuring our editorial team. He was ignorant, but filthy rich, sending generous donations regularly just to keep me on edge.”
The prince listened, face serious, almost solemn.
“Continue.”
Encouraged, I thought, *He’s on my side. He understands!* So I pressed on.
“I suspect he’s some nouveau riche without a title, always meddling in the story as if he owns it. He even threatened to stop the sponsorships if I didn’t follow his ‘advice.’ The stress got so bad I developed insomnia—and a chronic stomach condition.”
I placed a hand dramatically over my stomach, eyes tinged with sorrow. The prince’s expression softened; the faint crease of his brow hinted at concern.
*Good. He’s buying it. Keep going!*
“It got to the point where just picking up a pen in the morning made me nauseous. Even my favorite bread started to taste like paper. Do you know what it feels like to chew on parchment? I felt like a goat! Eventually, the mere sight of a sky-blue envelope made my heart race. I dreaded Mondays. I even thought about jumping into the river on my way to the office. Your Highness, please understand what it’s like to write with your creative freedom stripped away. The Crown Prince character was too perfect. I needed a flaw for the heroine to reject him… and baldness was all I could come up with. I’m terribly sorry for ending the story that way.”
I bowed deeply, hands folded neatly atop my knees. Surely, this was enough. After a pause, he finally spoke, voice low and tinged with disappointment.
“So that’s how… it made you feel.”
“Pardon?”
“My attention. I didn’t realize it was so burdensome. So unpleasant.”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
“I just wanted your story to be the best it could be.”
“What are you saying…?”
Crown Prince Jereon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. From that posture, his eyes rose slowly to meet mine—soft no longer. The relaxed warmth had vanished, replaced by the sharp gaze of a predator sizing up its prey.
And then, baring figurative fangs, he spoke slowly.
“That reader…”
“……”
“The one with the sky-blue envelopes.”
“……”
“That was me.”
“…….”
“You mentioned the texture, didn’t you? Different from normal envelopes? Specially made so they wouldn’t tear easily.”
“Th–then… Your Highness, you’re saying…?”
Pointing at him was unthinkably rude, but my hands were trembling too hard to attempt it anyway. I could only stare at him in horror, the words forming silently in my mind: *Are you that obsessive reader?*
He, still sulking, used my own words against me with a scowl.
“That’s right. I’m the ‘nuisance reader.’”
“Ah…”
And just like that, I knew—my life was over.
—
“W–where are you taking me? Please, just let me go!”
“The Crown Prince has instructed us to find suitable accommodations for you. And please, it’s not ‘sir.’ I’m his aide—Hassel.”
“Hassel, please! I’m a law-abiding citizen of the Empire! I haven’t committed treason! Why am I being locked away?!”
“Calm yourself. You’re within the palace grounds. Speak carefully—there are many ears.”
But surrounded by palace guards and being escorted to god-knows-where, staying calm was impossible.
*Where are they taking me? A tower? The dungeon? Are they planning to feed me to the crocodiles in the moat?!*
My knees went weak from fear. I was on the verge of collapsing when I broke into full-blown sobs. Hassel glanced around nervously, clearly uncomfortable.
“Please stop crying. It look like I’m hurting you.”
“Hhhuuhuh… please… just let me go home… sniffle…”
“I cannot. It’s His Highness’s direct order. Please try to calm down.”
“You’re going to feed me to crocodiles, aren’t you? I knew it!”
The guards began exchanging baffled glances as I looked at each of them in turn, tearfully pleading. Finally, they picked up their pace, dragging me toward my fate.
“We’ve arrived.”
“Hhuh? Where…?”
“This annex will be your residence from now on.”
“This place?”
“His Highness would like you to continue writing your novel here.”
“My *novel*? The one I already finished?”
“Yes. We’ll explain everything later. For now, just try to relax.”
Confused, I looked around. A group of palace maids stepped forward, bowing with grace and offering me a handkerchief to dry my tears.
Hassel exhaled with relief as he saw me finally quiet down.
“Now that you’ve had time to assess the situation, please make yourself at home. His Highness and I will return this afternoon.”
Just as he was about to leave, he turned to one of the maids lingering at the end of the procession.
“Nancy, she seems to have trouble digesting well. Prepare something gentle for her stomach.”
“Yes, sir.”
He quickly checked his pocket watch and disappeared with hurried steps. The guards vanished too, leaving only the palace maids behind—most of them seemingly around my age.
Nancy, the one Hassel had addressed, smiled warmly and handed me a fresh cloth.
“You must have been startled, Miss SNL. I’m a huge fan of *The Crown Prince’s First Love*.”
“Oh, are you? I’m Shanael. Nice to meet you.”
“Shanael?! So that’s what SNL stands for!”
“Yes.”
I gave her a small smile, only to realize my skin felt tight from dried tears. Dabbing my eyes with the dampened cloth, I noticed several other maids peeking at me with curiosity.
They followed me to the bedroom and soon crowded around.
“Miss Shanael, that ending last week—it wasn’t the real ending, was it? Right?!”
“Bald?! I couldn’t focus on anything all day after that.”
“I know! I keep imagining His Highness bald now.”
“Well, the Emperor *is* balding on top…”
“But doesn’t baldness skip a generation? That means the Crown Prince might be safe, right?”
“Probably. The late Emperor had a full head of hair when he passed.”
“Right, right!”
And just like that, I was stuck in the middle of a passionate debate about hereditary baldness.
I hadn’t realized just how big the fallout from that ending would be. I had momentarily forgotten the Emperor’s thinning crown—hidden as it was beneath that giant jewel-laden crown. If I had considered that, I would’ve *never* made hair the flaw.
Maybe that was why the Crown Prince was so sensitive about it. It wasn’t just about pride—it was about *lineage*.
*Maybe I should’ve just made him impotent… No, wait, that’s probably worse.*
Finding a satisfying reason to cut the story short had been harder than I thought. Especially with such a perfect male lead. And now that I’d called him a ‘nuisance reader’ to his face, there was no way he’d look kindly on me.
Maybe this annex *was* meant as a form of punishment.
“Excuse me…”
The maids were still deep in discussion about baldness and didn’t hear me.
“Excuse me?”
Only Nancy approached, concerned. “Yes, Miss?”
The others fell silent, turning toward me.
“Is this annex… a prison? Or maybe a place for exile…?”
They all stifled giggles, struggling to keep straight faces. Of course they knew where we were—this was their workplace. But I had no clue where this annex even was, only that it felt far from the main palace.
Nancy stepped forward and gestured toward the space around us.
“Miss Shanael, this annex is a guest residence reserved for honored visitors.”
“‘Honored’? So they’re treating me like… a guest?”
“Of course. That’s why His Highness’s aide escorted you here personally.”
*Escorted* was generous. I’d clearly been *dragged*.
“We’ll bring you a change of clothing fit for the palace. The outfit you’re wearing now—we’ll take care of it.”
“I’m comfortable in this, really.”
“We’ll find something just as comfortable. But we can’t allow an esteemed guest to dress like this in the royal palace. Please rest for now.”
Once they left, I finally took in my surroundings. I’d been too flustered earlier to notice, but now I examined everything closely.
That’s when it hit me—how absurd my earlier “is this a prison?” question had been.
Tapestries, portraits, and vases that all looked absurdly expensive. Curtains of pure silk. Bedding embroidered with gold thread.
There wasn’t a single thing here that hadn’t been chosen to lavish a guest.
It was so perfect I felt like the only flaw in the room was *me*.
*My God. What even is this place?*
On one wall hung a ceremonial sword encrusted with gemstones, a ruby as big as my thumb catching the sunlight in a dazzling blaze.
“No wonder they say a 3-carat diamond is nothing to the royal family.”
Just the thought of the sword’s worth made me swallow hard. Of course, I had no intention of stealing it. I didn’t want to *literally* end up as crocodile feed.
“But still… is this really about the novel?”
That obsessive reader turning out to be the Crown Prince had been shocking enough. But to think he’d actually been reading so closely…
In romance stories, it was always the crown prince, the noble duke of the north, or some other unattainable man. They were everywhere. And out of all those stories, *he* had fixated on *mine*?
That kind of devotion didn’t come from idle curiosity. It was too much.
*If he really liked my writing that much… maybe if I talk to him nicely, he’ll let me go and write back at the paper?*
Yes. I was going to tell him I’d reflect his every suggestion from now on.
Anywhere but *here* would be fine.
Foolishly… I thought that would be enough.
